I have to admit: I didn’t complete all the poetry exercises in this book. I started with good intentions, but quickly realized I’m more interested — at least for now — in understanding how poetry works than in writing my own. And honestly, that’s okay. The exercises will be there if (or when) I circle back. What mattered most to me was learning how “good” poetry is constructed and how best to read it, especially out loud.
If you know anything about Stephen Fry, it’s probably that he’s British. If you know a bit more about him, then you know he’s a cheeky fellow. Also clever, witty, occasionally mischievous, and capable of turning even a dry topic into something genuinely entertaining. That tone is everywhere in this book. Fry shares his own attempts at poetry — self-deprecation and all — which goes a long way toward making the more technical aspects feel accessible rather than intimidating.
For me, the real gold was the chapter on meter (or metre, as he insists on spelling it). I’ve always struggled with understanding poetic rhythm, especially iambic pentameter. Yes, I’ll wait. Got it? You’re correct: that’s what Shakespeare wrote in. That opening chapter finally clicked the gears into place for me. I now feel far more confident reading Shakespeare and far more aware of how poets construct the “music” of their lines. Of all the topics in the book, meter was the section that genuinely expanded my understanding the most.
The chapters on rhyme and form were also helpful, but meter was the game-changer. Interestingly, I never felt like any part of the book was “least useful” — mostly because Fry tells you outright when something is probably unnecessary but included for completeness. His tone is conversational and never condescending. He provides just enough history and terminology without ever drifting into textbook dryness. It’s informative, digestible, sometimes nerdy, and consistently funny.
I picked up this book after seeing it recommended by BookTuber Benjamin McEvoy in his video “How to Get an Oxford English Education for Free.” It’s the first book of several English Language books he studied at Oxford, and yes — I absolutely plan to read the other three. If The Ode Less Travelled is any indication, I’m in for a treat.
I’d recommend this book to aspiring poets (obviously), poetry lovers, Shakespeare readers, and anyone who has ever felt that poetry is written in a foreign language. Fry makes it clear that it’s not — at least, not always — and that the tools of poetry are learnable, enjoyable, and even fun.
I gave this one 5 out of 5 stars. Maybe it’s a 4.5 if I wanted to split hairs, but honestly? I’m very glad I read it and wish I had discovered it years ago. It’s deepened my appreciation for poetry in a real and lasting way.
And yes: I wanted to write this entire review in iambic pentameter…
…but I have a life to get to.
No, that’s not true.
But I do have more books to get to.
